Morning, Nine O’Clock, and the Seat at the Head
The next morning, the boardroom’s tall windows opened onto a hard, bright skyline.
Rebecca entered wearing a charcoal suit, the sapphire ring catching the light like a signature.
She took the chair at the head of the table without asking, because permission was no longer necessary.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” she said.
“Today we are not debating whether I have the right to act.”
She paused.
“Today we’re deciding how to keep the company alive.”
She presented her case with clear data, decisive steps, and a plan that didn’t beg for approval.
The vote was unanimous: interim chief executive, effective immediately.
Later, permanent.
